


They Were Loud, Yes, Loud

by ninaunn



Series: shield yourself now, you can survive this strife [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: End of the World, Gen, Ragnarok, Valkyrie - Freeform, Women Being Awesome, Yggdrasil - Freeform, awesome asgardians, doom of the gods, valkyrior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 12:45:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1550945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninaunn/pseuds/ninaunn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When They Rode Over the Burial Mound.</p><p>Ragnarok through the eyes of the Valkyrie.</p><p>Or, Brunnhilde watches all she loves turns to ash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Were Loud, Yes, Loud

**Author's Note:**

> A revamped version drabble that I did a while ago. Set in the MCU but based on elements from the comics too.

It hurt to watch the battlefield from so far away. Fire ate the sky and swallowed stars whole while the bones of the earth shook. Yggdrasil’s groan as her branches twisted and blackened; her leaves turned to ash that covered the corpses of her children. How could the cosmos not shudder at its own violent end? Suns bled and realms crumpled one by one into burnt husks. 

In such a way the universe ended; not a bang or a whimper, but a long, low and agonized scream. 

The Valkyrie wept to witness it. 

The great white steed beneath her rolled his shoulders and snorted, agitated at the chaos that tainted the air. Any other time Brunnhilde would have soothed him with scratches and soft words, but there was no place for gentleness any more. There was a duty to be done, and no kindness would help them fulfil it. 

Behind her, the Valkyrior looked sternly on; from their high perch midst the oncoming storm the golden spires of Asgard glimmered as they fell under the hunger of giants. The killing field was bright and flecked with gold, for Asgard’s warriors shone like the reflection of fading stars above them. Already the killing field was slick with their blood, the dead soil greedily drinking in the last of lives. 

The Valkyrior did not flinch at the sight of their people slain; they have seen it before. Brunnhilde knew she was not alone with her tears, but they have been preparing for this moment for eons and her sisters would not falter now.

Ash clogged Brunnhilde’s nose and mouth, making her throat dry and her breath harsh. _This is the dust of your home-realm_ , she thought. _This is the house of your father and the halls of your king and you will be all that is left to carry it on._

Harsh lights bit at her eyes as flashes of fire and ice consumed giants, draugr and Aesir alike. The field was stained red and gold and green and black, and Brunnhilde wondered if Yggdrasil mourned her children who tore themselves apart on her wounded belly.

Electricity popped and crackled through the thick smoke of the sky, and it was easy to see where the fighting was thickest. Thunder drew ever toward the mighty Thor; his hammer was a blur of white and blue lightning as it swung again and again at wet, blackened scales. Steam rose from where Thor struck the Midgard Serpent, with a great sizzling that even Brunnhilde could hear. Poison dripped from Jormungand's scales that ate at the very earth. Often, Thor’s furious form would be lost midst the hissing smoke and roiling coils of his foe, and she feared that he had fallen. He always reappeared with a burst of light. 

Elsewhere, hot flames and magic sparks marked where Lord Freyr the Fell and Lady Freyja the Fearless battled against Surtur and his burning sword. The Vanir twin’s dark hair flowed long and wild against the maelstrom they summoned; Brunnhilde could see the teeth in her Lady’s snarl. Her knuckles whitened as the father of the fire-giants drew his flames about them. 

_I cannot lead the Valkyrior for this, the most final of rides_ , Freyja had told her. _My brother and I entered this life together, and we will see its end together._

Brunnhilde had knelt at Freyja’s knees and wept into her skirt like a child, but her Lady had not been swayed. Tears had never moved the first of the Valkyrie. 

Golden Heimdall’s horn bellowed again, and Brunnhilde’s skin prickled as valour was called forth from all warriors. Already his bright armour was streaked with blood, and the bodies of draugr lay strewn about him like discarded toy soldiers. Behind him, an emerald green cape and golden horns approached in the midst of combat. The Trickster tricked and Heimdall roared and bled; Brunnhilde had long ago lost who Loki was fighting for but for the moment his hands were full. Brunnhilde fancied she could see the fury in the Watcher’s golden eyes as he whirled to face the World-Killer. 

A long, piercing sound like the whistle of wind cried out as a series of portals shimmered and opened to reveal an army bearing the banners of an amaranthine dragon.

Brunnhilde nodded to herself; relieved and irritated both at once. Nornheim had, at last, entered the fray. Briefly, the Valkyrie wondered what deal good Balder had made to entice his lovely queen to such a futile field. Karnilla’s purple fire consumed the dead things that sought her head with the cruel efficiency of dragon fire, and Brunnhilde wondered for the first time if they had a chance. The forces of Nornheim cut up the heaving mass of giants that charged them. Brunnhilde thought that Balder must be at the forefront. 

There was no sorrow there; long ago (when she’d been nothing more than a shy shield-maid with more strength than sense), Sif had gently let her down to the direction of Balder’s stalwart heart. Slowly, through his death and unexpected rebirth, Brunnhilde had wrestled her amorous feelings for her former captain into deep affection of friendship. His love had long been claimed by the Norn Queen, and in turn Brunnhilde had loved Sigurd to her own ruin, before cutting out such foolishness. Her heart had only room for duty and loyalty now. 

She hoped Balder's invulnerable skin held up to the end of the universe. 

Someone behind her, Rangrid or Flosi, let out a shuddered sigh as the shadow of Hela unfolded herself to tangle with Asgard’s warriors. Three brazen figures alone withstood her first onslaught and rallied their men for the next. The Dead Queen cackled, and with her dead face called forth dark draugr to attack again and drew forth her knives. Who could but the Warrior’s Three would have the boldness to go up against Hela herself. 

Flosi’s breathless sob reminded Brunnhilde that she was not alone. All her sisters had left loved ones when they had sworn their oaths. Duty could not banish such love, and now the Valkyrior grieved as their oaths held them back from fighting as those they loved were slaughtered below. She almost wept again herself, but instead steeled her heart. The sight of Volstagg, Hogun and Fandral being battered by Niflheim's Queen would be rewarded with courage, even if they knew not. More would die, but Brunnhilde and her sisters had to be brave. 

Brunnhilde had glimpsed Sif briefly early on, shining bright and ready for war as she’d charged toward Nidhogg. Both the wyrm and Sif were lost to sight now. Heavens knew if her shield-sister still lived. The Valkyrie hoped so with a fierceness that did not surprise her. 

_You will look for me?_ Sif had asked at their last, painful goodbye. _From where-ever you’re mysteriously stationed, you will look for me?_

_Of course I will_ , Brunnhilde had replied, heart in her throat. 

_I don’t mind dying_ , her friend had continued. _But I’d rather it be beside a shield-friend. Look for me?_

Her chest felt too tight and Brunnhilde again looked for Sif, but where ever the battle had taken the shield-maid was out of Brunnhilde’s vision. She would know soon enough, the Valkyrie reminded herself, no matter which way the battle turned. Still, her blood burned to stand so aloof from the fighting, when those she loved fought and died in the twilight. But oh, she’d made an oath. 

Long ago, when she was barely a girl, Brunnhilde had made an oath to Odin and then an oath to Freyja, and in that oath her bones had been bound to battle darkness and her footsteps to echo the path that only the dead could travel. With that oath had come a secret that each Valkyrie kept locked in her own heart. 

After she’d wept into Freyja’s skirts and held her like a long forgotten mother, Brunnhilde had mustered the Valkyrior and they had rode out of Valhalla for the last time. In the halls of Gladsheim, Brunnhilde had knelt before the Allfather and sworn again to him the duty he’d appointed to her. 

His single eye had been weary, sad and stone-like all at once. _It has come to this after all,_ he’d said quietly in an almost empty hall. _At least I can leave this last thing in strong hands. Ride hard and well, Brunnhilde of the Valkyrior._ Then the Allfather had kissed her brow, and Brunnhilde had felt the weight of his one last tactic. Odin’s final gamble fell heavily upon her shoulders like a cloak of iron and it felt like the weight of the world.

One last vow to ensure that the Valkyrior would stand strong and wait to do what was needed, though all of Brunnhilde being screamed to charge into battle and tear apart those who had harmed her home. Her throat housed unheard battle-cries; she could not yet bloody her sword and so the Valkyrie wept instead. Theirs was not a duty of glory, but of death. 

Jaw aching, Brunnhilde watched and waited. Her sisters were stiff and silent behind her. 

There, she found the Allfather; grim in his glory and gore on his helm as he battled Fenrir. Gungnir burst forth in dark flashes of power, and the air trembled around Odin, son of Bor, son of Buri. The giant wolf did not tremble. With a scarred and grizzled muzzle her snarled; fangs gleaming in the star-fall. Sleipnir’s throat had long been torn out, and the Valkyrie knew that it would not be long until the moment of reckoning. 

A moment, and the universe held its breath. Gungnir flared and sputtered and Fenrir howled and devoured. Yggdrasil sighed, and then heaved. 

Asgard crumbled. The sky bled. The earth cried. Odin Allfather was eaten. Balder the Brave, unseen and unnoticed by either, took up Gungnir and stepped into the Fen-wolf’s maw and cut through to his brain. A river of blood flowed over Asgard’s blessed son, and he too was lost. 

Thor the Thunderer struggled against endless barnacle bitten coils. At last he struck a fatal hammer blow, but so did Jormungand’s fangs pierce Thor’s skin and boiled his blood after nine mere steps. 

A great column of fire burst. Frey and Freyja burned, their charred corpses hand in hand even after they had extinguished Surtr’s flame. Heimdall bled to Loki’s knives. Sif raged at her brother’s death and slew his killer and held him as he died. Hela laughed and wore the skulls of the Warriors Three as a necklace. Nidhogg consumed. Yggdrasil fell. They all died, died, DIED! 

"Sisters, to arms!" Brunnhilde cried at last, as air crackled with the end of all things. Her spear shone as she pointed to Asgard’s glory-dead. The Valkyrior looked at her with tear stained faces free of fear, and Brunnhilde’s heart burst with pride. 

”For countless years it has been our duty to carry our brave and honourable dead through the dark paths of Yggdrasil’s shadows to their rest at Valhalla,” she told them, voice bright and clear like a bell. “Ride with me now, one last time, and we shall guide our beloved dead to a new dawn!"

As one, the Valkyrior roared and shook their spears. There was Flosi and Sigrun shouting for victory. Rangrid sneered and Goll bellowed and Thrudr laughed. Rota raised her shield and Skeggold shook her axe while Herja smiled. Brunnhilde smiled too, and turned her steed to face the battle.

Fell things shied away from the final ride of the Valkyries. The hooves of their horses struck loud like thunder and they moved with all the force of an eternal avalanche. The golden ghosts of Asgard lay weakly in their torn and broken bodies. With sharp shields and sword-hands the Valkyrior cut them free of their lingering deaths as the last light of the stars faded. The dark skies collapsed onto the wounded earth, and Brunnhilde and her sisters beat back the hungry things that would feast on their charges. 

The Nine Realms collapsed, and the shattered bones of worlds sank into the black void. Unfathomable powers curled and erupted at their feet, drinking in every last drop of life that had moved to this moment. 

But they were the Valkyrie and they held Asgard’s souls in their keeping. Brunnhilde shook her spear again and screamed at the waves of eldritch matter that had first birthed the universe and charged. 

On and on they rode through the cracked and splintered branches of Yggdrasil. What once had carried realms now crumbled to dust beneath the thunder of their hooves and the winding paths of death curled around and around. 

On and on the shield-maids fought, for this was their battle. Had not they ridden such paths of despair for eons? Even as the World Tree rotted and died and returned to the gaping maw of Ginnunga Gap, so did a thread of life spring anew from the roots of its own corpse. There grew a seedling, a sapling. 

So did the Valkyrior rode on and on and on. 

And there, when weariness made them into little more than spears and shields and the Valkyries had long forgot anything but the eternal drive to protect and guide along those dangerous paths, at last came light.

And life. 

And a new beginning. 


End file.
